


About My Neck Was Hung

by Fides



Series: Wesley Snippets [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Flash Fic, Gen, Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-29
Updated: 2003-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fides/pseuds/Fides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ah ! well a-day ! what evil looks<br/>Had I from old and young!<br/>Instead of the cross, the Albatross<br/>About my neck was hung."<br/>     - 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner'</p>
            </blockquote>





	About My Neck Was Hung

The young man deliberately shot wide. He had no real desire to shoot the dumb bird. It hadn't done anything to him other than have the misfortune of being on the same bit of moor on the not so glorious 12th. He really wished he could have got out of this little family tradition. The hunt and the feast, with all of his father's friends listening to the endless recital of his mistakes and offering their condescending understanding and support. The loud shot behind made him jump and told him this was about to become a new addition to the list.

"'Bout to get away." His father's querulous voice chided "Forgot you had two shots in your gun did you? Not your fault, boy, I guess this isn't what you are used to in school. Hitting little paper targets is all very well but doesn't mean you will be any good when it counts."

"Well I..." He began but his explanation was cut off by his father's departure.

"I'll get them to send a dog over to collect the bird." His father threw back over his shoulder "Didn't think we would need one near you."

The boy stood in the empty landscape and listened to the gunfire in the near distance. The riffle was held loosely in his hands as he wondered what he should do with himself. He wanted to go back to the house and loose himself in the warm, comfy library but he knew that would be frowned on. He had to put on a good show in front of his father's friends or the rest of the summer holidays would be a nightmare for everyone and not just him.

His attention as brought back from contemplations of tea and Xenophon by movement in the shrubs. Automatically he raised the riffle to cover the area only to lower it again as he realised what he was seeing. The bird his father had shot hadn't been killed outright and only stunned by the fall. The wounded animal flapped and staggered it's way to it's feet but it was clear that it would never fly again. Or even last very long, probably just long enough to evade the busy dogs and die painfully under a gorse bush somewhere. No one was watching as the man aimed and put a bullet straight into the birds skull.

It was only minutes later, although it seemed much longer, that the promised gun-dog ran up and collected its limp prize. It would be prepared and served later that evening with all the other prizes from the hunt. He was not surprised when the two bullets were found and the killing shot was claimed by his father with pride while he got credited with the mangled wing. He didn't speak up, there was no point. He had only shoot a crippled bird on the ground which was nothing to be proud of.

All through dinner he watched his father but saw only the wounded bird.


End file.
